Keep Trying
by Calissa.Drey
Summary: "You know, most escorts have given up by this point." He said. "Why do you keep trying?" After the loss of a set of tributes, Effie and Haymitch find themselves in yet another argument.


**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games**

A canon sounded.

Their only remaining tribute hit the ground, a knife plunged into his stomach. A pool of blood spilled from his wound, a thick and screaming vibrant red.

Effie felt her eyes grow wide in horror at the sight before her. This person, this child, whom she had spoken to merely a few hours ago, was dead. Their female tribute had been killed within the first moments with a quick slash to the throat, barely registering a reaction from the audience. But the boy, his had been much different. He had faced a brutal attack. The girl from District 2 had been merciless as she repeatedly stabbed him, smiling while he cried out in pain.

 _It's not getting any easier,_ Effie thought to herself. She always thought that in time, the death would mean less. Yet, it seemed to have the adverse effect. As each year passed, it became more difficult to cope. The nights became long as she was tormented by the faces of those she reaped. Of those she technically killed. Effie found herself caring for the children, and having a false hope that they could somehow have a chance of winning.

"Well, he lasted longer than I expected." Haymitch commented to her before taking a sip of his drink. It was a musty colored liquor that had a stench so strong she could smell it from across the room.

Effie cut her eyes at him and crossed her arms. She couldn't believe he would say something so insensitive. She had been working with him for years at this point in her career and the mentor hardly ever made crass and distasteful comments such as the one he just did. Yes, he did say vulgar things to her and about the Capitol, but he never spoke so poorly of the tributes.

"Really, Haymitch?" She pursed her lips. "Is now really the time to be making a comment like that?"

He shrugged and stirred his drink, staring down it like a dark void.

"Honestly, I don't understand how you-" She began when he cut her off.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, sweetheart." He sneered. "We both knew this was going to happen."

Effie scoffed and glared in his direction.

"I didn't! We had a chance this time, Haymitch! Look how far we made it. Or is your sense of vision too blurred by all that alcohol you've consumed?"

"My vision isn't blurred, Princess. In fact, this little event, it's opened my eyes to see just how blind the world really is. People like you, you just don't get how life is."

"Blind? You think that I'm blind? I'm the only person on this team who actually knows what is going on half the time!"

"Exactly. Your life is your job and that is pathetic, considering you send children to slaughter each other."

Effie flinched. She knew she should just let it go. That is what she did most of the time. She brushed off his words and pretended that they hadn't wounded her pride. But, tonight she decided to give it back to him.

"Your life is sad, too. All you do is drink and complain about how terrible the world has been to you." Effie countered. "You sit around and mope instead of trying to help these children who are obviously scared out of their minds! They come to you for advice and instead find you passed out drunk on the couch."

Haymitch set down his drink. His face was blank, and Effie wondered if he had even listened to a word she had said. He looked up at her and the way his eyes burned into hers made her feel uncomfortable.

"You know, most escorts have given up by this point." He said. "Why do you keep trying?"

Effie stared at him a moment, confused by his sudden change in demeanor. It was a question he could have asked with condescension, but instead it was soft. It seemed as though he was genuinely curious. He must have been drunker than she thought. 

"Why do _you_ keep trying?" She retorted, trying to steer the focus onto him. "As you have said many times in the past, Snow has taken everything away from you."

"Jesus Christ, I wasn't suggesting that we should kill ourselves. I'm not some little bitch who gives up when life gets hard," He seemed offended by her suggesting such a thing.

"Then what do you expect me to do? Quit my job?"

"You don't have anything holding you here. You're still young, get out of here before this job drains you completely."

"Who is to say it already hasn't?" She retorted bitterly.

Haymitch sent her a glare. "You aren't drained out yet, Trinket. Otherwise you wouldn't still be here nagging me all day long about how my tie doesn't match my suit or that my hair doesn't looked brushed. You wouldn't even think about that kind of stuff. You would be so consumed with all the death that you would lose your spark, so much so that people would start to notice you slipping. Soon it would become so apparent that they would fire you, pull you from your position, and then who knows what becomes of you."

She stared at him a moment. She was torn between asking him if he had finally lost his mind to alcohol poisoning, or replying as if this were a normal conversation between the two of them.

"You don't think I feel the death, Haymitch? I feel it every day. I feel it at night, when I can't fall asleep and I imagine myself calling out their names. Every time I close my eyes I see their faces. I am the person they spend their final days with. Not their mother or their father. A stranger. A stranger who is the reason they are going to die." She furrowed her brow. "I remember each death. I remember their favorite foods, how nervous they were for their interview with Caesar Flickerman. I remember how scared they were. I remember the ones I thought had a chance and the ones I knew that were going to die the moment I saw them walk on the stage."

"Trinket-"

"You want to know why I haven't given up?" Her blue eyes were cold. "I haven't given up because I know we will have a victor. And if we could have a victor, just one, I will know that I didn't fail every damn kid that I sentenced to that arena. Each year that I do this, I have the chance to help a kid that I know another escort might just leave alone."

Haymitch frowned at her. "And if we never have a victor?"

She looked at him, her expression dark. He waited for her to respond but she just sat there.

Silent.

He picked up his drink and downed it. He allowed a sigh to escape his lips before he got up from the couch and made his way to the liquor cabinet. He rummaged through the different bottles before selecting a whiskey. He began pouring his glass when the blonde escort got up from her chair and started to leave the room.

"Effie." Her name sounded foreign on his tongue. He never called her by her real name. It was always pet names or her last name. It used to make her angry, but over the years she had grown use to it.

She froze. She didn't face him, standing like a statue in the other direction.

"I'm glad you're my escort." He said awkwardly. Haymitch wished he could stop there, keep it sweet and simple, but that wasn't in his nature. He couldn't have stopped himself if he tried. "It could be someone more annoying than you."

Effie let out a laugh. A real one, too. Not the fake one she used when she was around sponsors or other Capitols. The sound of her happiness brought a smile to Haymitch's lips.

"Thank you, Haymitch." She turned around and flashed him a smile of her own. He could tell she was sad, but she a fighter. She wasn't going to give up. She would always be trying.

He stood there, his grin fading. He brought the whiskey to his lips. He did not like the thought of Effie having a bunch of guilt. Other escorts, sure. But her? She wasn't like the other escorts. She had proved that to him tonight. He had poked and probed at her until she showed him how much she cared.

Haymitch decided that he would be different. He would try harder. Help her get sponsors. And maybe, just maybe, he and Effie would finally get a victor.


End file.
